


it all comes down to you

by returnsandreturns



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/F, First Dates, Fluff, sort of??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 10:45:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15169007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: Eve knows who he is because his face is constantly plastered on the news but she would know that he’s a politician and a total dick by the way he’s dressed, the way he talks, the general aura of corruption and greed surrounding him—oh, and his tips are shit. That’s a pretty big tell.She cares a lot less about him than the girl who’s been watching him.





	it all comes down to you

**Author's Note:**

> THIS SHOW IS EATING ME ALIVE
> 
> Caution: I have no firm plans on doing anything else with this but there's the slightest chance.

Eve knows who he is because his face is constantly plastered on the news but she would know that he’s a politician and a total dick by the way he’s dressed, the way he talks, the general aura of corruption and greed surrounding him—oh, and his tips are shit. That’s a pretty big tell.

She cares a lot less about him than the girl who’s been watching him.

Originally, she was just taking notes about her in her head when she had free moments but there’s a lot to notice, so she’s got a notepad tucked in her back pocket to add observations. Like today—she’s wearing a pale pink lace dress, dark hair framing her face perfectly. She’s _radiating_ innocence and, after two full weeks of trailing this guy into the coffee shop, she gets up and walks with gently swaying hips to speak to him.

Or more likely flirt with him, based on the way she leans forward, the way his eyes drink her in.

She’s gorgeous. Maybe she’s trying to marry for money, because otherwise she’d have no reason to be approaching him when she could probably have anyone else in the room.

“Seductive,” Eve murmurs, watching the way she smiles, pulling out the notepad to jot down a few things.

“What?” Trevor, her coworker, asks.

“Uhm—nothing,” she says, smiling. “Just talking to myself.”

Fifteen minutes later, they leave together.

_Interesting._

*

Late that night, Eve’s standing in her kitchen eating takeout when his face pops up on the news—a controversial politician murdered in his home. Cleanly garrotted and left naked and bleeding on his bed.

She has to put down the container she’s holding because her hands are shaking so much.

She should call the police, but a strange, guilty part of her wants to wait and see if she sees the girl in the morning. She’d be long gone by now anyway, if she fled afterward. Plus, Eve wants to _talk_ to her, more than polite flirting and the eyelashes that Eve thinks might be fluttering just for her sometimes.

She shoves the rest of the food in the refrigerator and tries to shake off the feeling because it’s really distasteful that she’s so _excited._

*

She’s wearing a well-fitted black suit when she comes in a few hours into Eve’s morning shift. It’s like a living metaphor.

After Eve makes her cappuccino, she takes it to her table instead of calling it out.

“Such good service,” the girl says, smiling up at her.

“Isn’t it risky to come back here?” Eve asks.

The girl’s face shuts down then lights up. Not what Eve had expected.

“I _knew_ you were special,” she says, tilting her head, looking pleased.

“I’m just saying—they’re going to track his routine,” Eve says. “Check out CCTV footage. Ask baristas.”

The girl licks her lips before she stands up, murmuring, “My name’s Villanelle. Will you have lunch with me, Eve?”

“Are you planning on killing me?” Eve asks.

“Are you planning on turning me in?” Villanelle asks, raising her eyebrows.

“No,” Eve says, after a moment. That guy _sucked_ and she wants to know everything about Villanelle. Maybe assassination is. . .sometimes excusable? Morality’s complicated.

“Then I’d love to take you out,” Villanelle says, taking a step closer, so the toes of their shoes push together—beat-up boots and sharp looking heels, “and hear all about how I’m going to get caught.”

“. . .my break is at noon?” Eve says.

Villanelle grins.

“Lovely.”

*

Villanelle’s blonde when she meets Eve on the steps outside and Eve stares at her, startled, before she starts to laugh.

“Is that all you need?” she asks. “A wig?”

“And confidence,” Villanelle says, taking Eve’s arm and urging her forward. “Really, it’s amazing how little men pay attention to anything if they’re within five feet of someone’s tits.”

Eve laughs again. She might be the slightest bit hysterical but Villanelle’s _funny_. And a cold-blooded killer.

Probably good to keep that in mind.

They walk to a small French restaurant that Eve has never heard of and get a table in a dark corner. Villanelle orders for her in low, sweet-sounding French. She was kind of stirred just hearing her say _cappuccino_ this morning in that voice _,_ so it’s distracting enough that Eve doesn’t realize that she’s being evaluated—that Villanelle is looking her over with something that resembles interest but might be the equivalent of the notepad that she still has in her pocket right now. A dated, itemized list of things that could take her down.

“Do you do this often?” Eve asks.

“Have lunch with beautiful women?”

Eve takes a deep breath to avoid reacting to that.

“Assassinations,” she says, softly, glancing around to make sure nobody’s close enough to hear.

“Oh,” Villanelle says, taking a sip of water. “Well, it’s a living.”

Eve looks at her serene face before she takes a piece of bread from the basket in the center, tearing it in half and taking a bite before she says, “Tell me everything.”

Villanelle laughs.

“I can’t do that,” she says, “but I can tell you something that I _think_ you want to know.”

“What’s that?”

“What it felt like to kill him.”

Eve’s breath catches, dropping the bread onto her plate. She wants to know who Villanelle works for, who else she’s killed, how she got into this business, if she has any regrets, but she also—she also wants to know if she likes it. Why she likes it.

“Yeah,” she says. “Tell me.”

*

As they eat, Villanelle talks about what it feels like to seduce a man and reduce him to a bleeding corpse—how she made him strip down before she climbed on the bed behind him and took his life, quick and bloody.

She pushed him onto his back to watch him die.

She doesn’t have to tell Eve out loud that she liked it. Eve can see it in her face.

It’s stupid, but Eve lets her walk her home afterward. They stand on her doorstep, both of them seeming unsure, until Eve asks, “How long are you in London?”

“About. . .three more hours,” Villanelle says, making a face.

“Oh, wow,” Eve says, trying to swallow down her sudden sadness. “I shouldn’t keep you, then.”

“I’d like you to keep me,” Villanelle says.

Eve wants that, too. She wants to know everything about her.

She wants to spend the  _night_ with her.

“. . .do you want to come up?” she asks.

Villanelle's smile is like the sun.

"Please," she says. 

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm on Tumblr](http://returnsandreturns.tumblr.com)


End file.
